Final Destination: Punished
by BlondeCrayon
Summary: After saving her friends and family in what would have been a fatal overpass collapse, Anne now has to complete death's design... one person at a time.
1. Prologue

Prologue

If I could go back and change one thing in my life, it would be my birth. It seems like my only salvation from this grotesque and fucked-up world is a break from existing.

Three weeks ago, I became a catalyst of death… a murderer. I'm punished for saving the lives of those around me by a fate worse than death, worse than any kind of pain even the sickest of individuals can imagine. I am put to the miserable task of completing death design, by taking the lives of those I once saved.

I didn't die in my original premonition. I was saved before I could be impaled, but my friends, family, all of them, dead within minutes… that is, before I saved them. I'm such a fucking idiot, I should've stayed out of it. I was fine, free, survived without a scratch. I should've known that you can't cheat death's design.

No one can cheat death's design.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I really have no other option than to start this story off with a cliché: It was a perfectly normal day, no different than any other. It was a warm October afternoon, warmer than most, and I saw it as a sign that the best was yet to come. There was the constant deja-vu feeling, but it was nothing I couldn't dismiss as nerves or cold feet.

October 5th, 2012 was the date of my wedding, and the day my life changed for good.

My fiancé, Devin, and I had always pictured this day as a joyous one. I mean, who wouldn't? It's the day that you join your life with another in a bond severed only by death… except death isn't supposed to come before you take your vows.

I stared at myself in the mirror, letting my face sink in. This would be the last time I would see Anne Adler, the young red-headed accountant from some dopey town in Oregon. From then on, it would be the face of Anne _Perez_, the newly married young (possibly blonde) accountant from some dopey town in Oregon. It was a change I wasn't sure I could handle on my own.

Little did I know that I didn't have to, and that the next time I looked into a mirror, I'd still see that red headed, unmarried face.

My hair has been done for some time now. My mother insisted on doing it herself, probably for her own selfish purposes. Salon trips are expensive nowadays, and she had already spent more than enough on the service. I couldn't ask for more from her, so I was happy to allow it.

She stands behind me, drinking me in. From the mirror, I see a single tear dribble down her cheek. She is losing her youngest daughter today.

"Do you like it?" She asks, trying to choke back the sobs. "It's the same way I wore mine on my wedding day."

I fight back the urge to ask which. My mother has been married a number of times, my father being the first. Next came an insurance man, then a car dealer, a CEO, and so on. She sure knows how to pick them. The divorces have left her with an enormous sum of money, most of which she refuses to spend, hence my sitting in a chair in my childhood bedroom, letting her have her way with my head.

"Yeah, mom." I say, flashing a sweet smile. "I love it." It's a simple French twist, but I can't deny that it frames my face well. I stand up to hug her, comfort her, anything to stop her from crying. I need her to be a rock today.

She accepts my attempts at consoling her, but they only make her weep louder. "My little girl! Married!" she cries through deep, gasping sobs. Part of me thinks she's overreacting, and she probably is.

Over the years, I've noticed she's quite the actor. She's used everything from the "my husband's a cheating bastard" bit to the "I'm so lonely I'm two seconds away from adopting all of the cats in the shelter" ploy. If it can be used to seduce a wealthy single man, I can guarantee you she's used it. She has fiery red hair like mine, but it's not natural. She's dyed it to keep the grays from telling her actual age. I get most of my looks from her, but the red hair I get from my father. It's the feature I'm most proud of. Out of anyone coming to the wedding today, I look forward to seeing him the most.

"Try not to fight with Daddy too much today." I plead. It's all I can do. "For me?"

"You know, dear, it's not usually me who starts these things." _Of course it isn't. _"But I can try my best."

"Thanks mom." I release her from my grasp. I look out the window. It's raining. When did it start raining? "That's weird. The weather man said it was supposed to be sunny today."

"Well, sometimes they're wrong you know." I try to reason with myself, but I can't seem to take my gaze away from the window. My mother tries to regain my focus as she composes herself. "You should really get ready to leave, your wedding party will be here any minute."

I jump, a wave of fear cresting over me. I quickly dismiss it and give a weak smile. She's right, the wedding starts at two, and it's already almost 12:30. I grab the bag containing my dress and shoes and hurry down to the living room. Now, there's nothing to do but wait.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I can't quell a sense of foreboding deep within my stomach. If I had known then what I know now, I would've listened to it. I would've ran away from my mother's house as fast as my legs could carry me and never looked back. I would've saved myself from the inevitable, but the outcome would still be the same. I would still be identifying the bodies of my loved ones, and I would still be hiding the evidence that I had caused them. No matter how many times I tell myself I can change the past, their fates still stand.

I watch the weather reports, unable to tear myself away. I'm not sure why, but I feel attached to the television. Nothing else matters.

"There will be a severe thunderstorm watch in effect until around midnight tomorrow." I think he says, but I can barely make it out. The storm is affecting the satellite reception. I can hear my mother yelling through the phone at my father in between the breaks in speech. "We can only-

"God, you fucking-"

"…but-"

"Goddamn it Gordon! I'll talk to you-"

"… We'll be back-" and I lose feed as my mother hangs up. I think of it as a blessing. At least now I can focus on what's ahead: my marriage to the man I love.

My mother seems to materialize next to me. "Your asshole of a father called." _Wow. You can't even _act _civil?_ "Says he's bringing Devin with them. Wouldn't let them leave without him."

"But, he can't see me before the wedding!" I panic. The last thing I need is bad luck.

"Don't worry, Dear." She says, putting her hand on my face, pulling it toward her shoulder. She wants to console me, so I submit. "They've put a blindfold on him."

She giggles, and I giggle too. The image of my hot-headed father trying to lead Devin around makes me feel better. He can barely see _without _a blindfold.

There's a knock on the door, and it snaps me out of whatever relief I had. The fear returns, raging like the storm outside. It's weird, because I'm not afraid for me… I'm afraid for Devin. For my father, my mother and her husband, my sister and her daughter, my best friend, Devin's best man. Deep inside I can't help but feel like something bad will happen.

Regardless of my fear, I answer the door. It's Devin, suited up and blindfolded, like my mother said. "Anne? Baby? That's you right? If not, I'm talking to your mother and that's _really_ awkward since I just called her baby." He laughs nervously, arms outstretched in an attempt to lead himself.

I laugh too. "Yes, it's me."

"Oh, thank God." He finds my face and kisses me. I feel a swell of love for him I've never felt for anyone else. He's the greatest man I know. "I had to see you, so they made me put a blindfold on. Of course, I can't physically _see _you, but-"

"I already told her mother everything." My father's booming voice cuts between us. "Whether or not her mother actually told her is another story."

"Hi Eileen!" Devin yells, obviously trying to avoid an argument. Did I mention he's amazing?

I grab my father's face with both hands and pull him close so only he can hear, "Dad, please. Not today."

He can clearly see the panic on my face, and his softens. "No problem Doll. What do you say we get this show on the road, huh?"

I smile and nod. I want more than anything for this day to be over. I lead Devin to the car, laughing as he stumbles… until I stop dead in my tracks. There's something about the license plate of the car that grabs my attention.

It reads "FLHT-180".


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Anne, come _on!_" I hear my sister's voice faintly through a sharp ringing in my ears. How long have I been standing here? "It's a fucking tsunami out there!" There's laughter, and I can distinguish my voices as being those of my wedding party: My sister, Kate, her husband Donald, their daughter Emma, my best friend Ruth, Devin's best friend Ronnie, and my mother's new husband, Kurt. They must have already broken out the Champaign in the limo, because they never get along this well. "We'll be late for the part-ay!"

I break out a smile. I can't let her see that this bothers me. Hell, I don't even know _why _it bothers me. I just know that, right now, all that matters is keeping myself sane. "Jesus, Kate. Everyone drunk in there already?"

"_No," _she says, trying to defend herself, "Emma's not."

I let out a laugh. "Seriously?"

"No, Emma's sloshed. She's actually the only one _not _sober!"

I look at her accusingly, and she sighs.

"No one's drunk Anne, but maybe _you_ should be. It'll help you relax a little."

I sigh, and Devin kisses me again. Now more than ever, I just want to run away with him. I give one last look to the license plate. It's nothing… it _has _to be nothing. No one's ever been killed by a license plate, right?

I lead Devin into the limo, and get in behind him. I push my gut-wrenching fear beneath the new-found excitement. I'm getting married today. "_Goin' to the chapel 'cause we're, gonna get ma-a-aried!" _he sings, and my sister joins him. She pours my blind fiancé a glass of campaign. They're so happy, so full of mirth, that I can't help but hum along. Soon, the entire limo is erupt in song as it pulls away from the curb. There's nothing I can do now. There's no turning back.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I hate overpasses. We've been stuck in traffic for a good fifteen minutes, and my acute acrophobia is acting up. We need to move, _now._ The rain has escalated into a storm, and has caused an accident further up. Our chauffer, who has requested to be called Mr. Rivers, assures us that it may be a while.

I look at Emma, seated next to her father, trying to occupy myself. She's only five years old, but already I can tell she'll be a knockout. She's beautiful, just like her mother. She looks almost as frightened as I do. I share an emotional connection with my niece and goddaughter. I only wish she was old enough to know what was going on with her Auntie Anne.

Looking at her, I notice a scar above her lip that wasn't there yesterday. I don't think I would've noticed if it weren't clumsily covered up. There is a patch of make-up two shades too dark: her mother's tone. I fear the worst, but I've been fearing the worst a lot lately. I turn away from her and file the information away for later, because I don't need more to worry about today.

We've been listening to oldie's songs since we left my mother's house. It is "Saturday in the '70's" today, and my mother wouldn't let Mr. Rivers even _think _about touching the dial. It's her favorite day of the week.

"God, I love this song." she says, closing her eyes as if reminiscing about the good old days, before all of her marriages. She begins to hum along, and the entire car looks at her like she belongs in a mental institution. Hell, maybe she does.

The radio's transmission fades, and my mother's emotions turn stern, as if to say "How are you shake me out of this daydream! I was actually happy!"

"Damn storm." She moans, scolding it.

The radio replies by spitting out garbled sentences. "_Buy yours- have you- from seven- this isn't-" _all accompanied by ear-splitting static. My wedding party holds their ears to block it out, but the garbled speech and whining screeches still seep through. Relief comes in the form of an old My Chemical Romance song. "_We'll give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff-"_

"What the Hell is this? Switch it back!" she demands.

Mr. Rivers complies, but it only stays for a moment, slipping back into the bloodcurdling whine, and settling back into the song. "-_it will never be enough-"_

"Oh, just turn it off." My mother sighs, rubbing her temples. He obliges.

All of the sudden, I feel claustrophobic, dizzy. The entire limo is spinning and there's nothing to grab onto. Panic grips my stomach and refuses to let up. Nothing feels _real_.

"Anne," Kate says, concerned, "are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah." I reply. I try to focus on her face, on something definite, but it's impossible. I offer a weak smile. "I'm fine."

"Sure as Hell don't look fine."

Devin takes off his blindfold, causing the women in my family to gasp. "Baby, oh my God! Are you feeling okay?" He tries to force me to look at him, and I regain my sight. I feel a little better.

"Yes," I say, reassuring him, "I'm fine."

And at that moment, there is a rumbling, a force of tremendous power. Lightening strikes the concrete, singeing it. Yelps and screams reverberate through the car as I try to see, and cars try to maneuver through the traffic. A fissure opens in the middle, swallowing people. I scream, but there is no sound I am too terrified. I knew this would happen. I look to my father; I want him to tell me what to do. Do I flee? There is another quake, and a tremendous pillar hit's the front of the car. Warm, sticky blood splatters the windshield, and I am staring into the now dead eyes of Mr. Rivers. Emma lets out a scream that doesn't even sound human, and she opens the door, leaving the car. Her father follows, as does my sister, and soon Devin and I are the only ones left in the car. We share a glance, communicating telepathically. _If we die today, we die together. _

He grabs my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as what's left of the overpass sways. I know in an instant it is going to collapse. My father is late to leave the car, and is killed by an explosion caused by a gas leak. We stumble away, no time to mourn, and run toward Ruth, who is gesturing for us.

"Guys! Anne! I know we can make it if we just-" And, in an instant, her young life is cut short by a falling piece of the overpass above, crushing her skull like a water balloon and falling to the road beneath the collapsing bridge. I can no longer stifle my screams. We keep running, witnessing one horrifying death after another. Some are crushed by falling cars, including my mother and Ronnie. Kurt dies soon after, being pushed off of the side by another person running for. It's funny how fast the human race can turn on each other.

My sister and her husband's fates are next, and are electrocuted by a metal railing as a rouge bolt of lightening again strikes. Emma just barely squeaks by, but is petrified, unable to move, a look of horror pasted to her face. It's just us now. Everyone else is dead. All we have in the world now is each other. I quickly grab her, holding her five-year-old body close to my chest so tightly she could fuse into me and I wouldn't complain. Devin grips my hand tighter, pulling Emma and I toward safety. We're almost home free.

I turn back just before the end to assess the damage, and as I do I utter a cry in mourning. Very few have survived this, and those who didn't suffered torturous deaths. It's over. I face toward the survivors. We've won.

"Anne!" Devin shouts, followed by a wet and sickening rip.

As I turn around, I hear a scream. It's Emma's… and my stomach drops.

_Devin._

I whip my head back at a super-human speed, unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of what has occurred. I look down, and there, on the concrete, is my fiancé, the light of my life: dead. A shard of metal juts out from his belly and the middle of his neck, the blood spurting and spewing out to asphalt. Wet, hot tears fall down my face and join him. My brain fumbles to comprehend.

_Devin gave his life to save mine. Those shards were meant for me._

Emma squirms out of my arms, falling to the road. He feet pound across to the corpse of my would-be husband and cradles his head in her small arms. I am not dead, but my soul is. I feel nothing.

I take small steps toward her, and I feel another quake. Before I can make a sound, the entire overpass collapses, swallowing her small frame with Devin's corpse. Everyone I knew, everyone I had, is gone in an instant. I am the only survivor.

"Oh, just turn it off." My mother sighs, rubbing her temples. Mr. Rivers obliges.


End file.
